What if Gemma had accepted Simon's proposal?
by worldspinsmadly
Summary: What if Gemma had not refused Simon's proposal? This is the first chapter, where Gemma returns to Spence betrothed to Simon. What is Kartik's reaction? How will she cope with her growing feelings for him? Who will she decide on? GEMMA/KARTIK SHIPPING
1. Breaking The News

**Disclaimer: I do not own AGATB, RA or TSFT, nor do I own the characters.**

**Summary: What if Gemma had accepted Simon's marriage proposal? How would Kartik react?  
****Picks up after Rebel Angels. Most events have remained the same: Kartik left on Christmas Day after Gemma insulted him, but she was not kidnapped by the Rakshana and rescued by Kartik. She has not seen him since he left.**

**Gemma has returned to Spence to finish the year before getting married. Yes, I realise that it is probably unrealistic that she would return to finish school, but I needed a setting.**

'Well, what's this I hear of a marriage?' Felicity flounces into my room, her petticoats rustling as she spreads herself out on Ann's bed.

I smile bashfully and turn back to my suitcase, where I am removing my clothes and hanging them up. 'Yes. To Simon.'

'Gemma?' In one quick, fluid movement, Felicity is up, my face cupped in her hands as she looks into my eyes. 'Is this what you want?'

I am taken aback. Felicity is not usually one for noticing anyone's feelings besides her own. I am quite touched by her concern. 'Of course, yes.'

Felicity frowns slightly, the skin on her milky white forehead creasing. 'And what about Kurtin?'

'Kartik,' I correct quietly.

'Yes.' She still holds my face in her hands, her eyes drilling into me. 'What about him?'

'What about him?' I tear my face away and slump on my bed. 'He left weeks ago. I haven't heard from him.' I stare at her pleadingly, begging her silently not to make this more difficult for me. 'Simon is a good match. He is a proper Englishman; he has a fine reputation and a well-to-do family.'

Felicity shook her head impatiently. 'Gemma, what does that matter? I've seen how you look at Kartik. And I've seen that's not how you look at Simon.'

'Leave it, Felicity!' I snap harshly. 'And begging your pardon, but I do not _look_ at him in any way!'

'Fine!' Felicity raises her hands in surrender and swings open the bedroom door. 'Supper is to be served at seven.' She is about to close the door when she once again surprises me with her perception. 'You must do what's right for you, Gemma.' With one final glance, she swings the door shut and leaves me alone in my little room with only my swirling thoughts for company.

Sighing, I drop the slip I'm holding and I sink onto my bed. Felicity's words circle my head. Again, I question myself if this marriage is the right decision. I grimace as I remember my family's reaction to the news.

Tom was delighted. He was no doubt thinking what having Simon Middleton as a brother-in-law and the well connected Mr. Middleton as a father-in-law would do to his prospects in the field of business. He had pumped my hand eagerly on hearing the news and spouted off a list of benefits that came with being married to Simon as though afraid I would change my mind. '…and you'll have a _title_, Gemma, won't that be grand!'

Grandmamma had beamed, her smile stretching from one ear to the other as she paraded me in front of London's most elite, showing me off like a china doll.

Father had smiled weakly through his laudanum stupor and slurred: 'I'm proud of you, love…lovely fellow.'

Breathing in deeply, I steady my thoughts. There was no way I could break the engagement. Not only would my grandmother die of the scandal and Tom would more-than-likely disown me, but there is no reason for me to break it off.

There is Kartik, a little voice niggles inside my head.

I contemplate this. Kartik would no doubt return with the gypsies to once again resume his post of watching over me and making sure I'm not proving to be a nuisance for the Rakshana. I am a duty to him, nothing more. Simon likes me, Simon wants to marry me. He offers me stability and security. What does Kartik offer me? A headache from arguments and a bad temper.

_And the potential to love him_

I wrestle with this feeling. It is true that I have developed feelings for Kartik, however much I try to quash them. Sometimes, I get a feeling—encouraged by a glance from him, or the way he acts around me—that maybe he feels something to, until I am reminded that he works for the Rakshana. I have convinced myself that his kiss at Christmas was a way of keeping me under-the-thumb of his brotherhood.

Coming out of my reverie, I jump off my bed. Here I am; betrothed to a man I admire, thinking of another person, fantasising about their non-existent love for me.

_A man you admire?_

No! I push my traitorous thoughts deep into my mind. It is true that I don't love Simon right now, but I care for him and I feel that I could grow to love him. He is what is best for me.

Standing up firmly, determined not to think of Kartik again, I resume my unpacking.

* * *

I have almost finished folding my clothes into my closet when I hear a tap on the window, followed by another one. Looking over, I see stones bouncing off the glass. Angry, I stomp over to the screen and pull it open; ready to unleash my anger at whoever is doing it. 

It is Kartik.

He stands below my window, pebbles in his hand. It is dark outside, but just beyond the trees, I can make out figures in the woods assembling a camp. The gypsies have come back and as I suspected he might be, Kartik is in their midst. He throws another stone up and it bounces off my forehead painfully. Without thinking, I clamp my hand to my face and emit a curse, and the sound of his soft chuckle floats up to my window.

I pull in from the cool air and quickly fasten my overcoat, my hands shaking from the ridiculous excitement at seeing him again.

Slowly, I creep out of the room. The halls and stairs are mercifully deserted and I tiptoe quietly past the dining room, where I can hear the chatter of girls as they eat their supper. I slowly pull the bolt back from the main door and, quiet as a shadow, I slip outside into the cold air. I scramble around to school until I find Kartik, calming leaning against the stone wall underneath my window, waiting for me.

'You took your time.'

'I _took_ two minutes.'

He smirks and pulls me away towards the lake, where we are unlikely to be discovered by anyone from the school. Once we reach the shore, he drops my hand and sits on the grass, resting his back against a tree.

I sit opposite him, pulling blades of grass from the ground, staining my hands and my coat. Neither of us speaks for a long time, until I can no longer bear it.

'Where did you go when you left?'

'Back to the Rakshana. I stayed there until three days ago, when I met up with the gypsies travelling this way.'

'Kartik, I'm sorry, I—' I wave my hands about, trying to find a word to complete my sentence. 'I didn't mean to insult you.'

He laughs harshly and waves away my apology. 'Gemma, right now we have more pressing worries. Like Circe. You bound her?'

'Yes.' I do not want to discuss the realms and he does not push me.

He shifts against the tree and edges slightly closer, nonchalant, as though hoping I won't notice. I suppress a smile.

'Did you have a good Christmas without me, Miss Doyle?' He smiles coquettishly. Is it my imagination or is there a flirtatious undertone to his smile?

And what do I tell him? I enjoy being with Kartik, especially when he is in a playful mood, but I wonder if I should tell him about Simon?

'I survived. Nothing out of the ordinary,' I respond, feeling slightly guilty.

He sidles a little closer, so that we are almost side by side. 'Did you miss me?'

My breath catches in my throat. This is most unlike Kartik. He is less reserved then usual, and his voice has a teasing ring to it.

'No more then you missed me, I'm sure.'

'Who said I didn't miss you?' We are sitting very close now. I can feel his hot breath when he speaks. His finger brushes against my hand, and an electric shot runs up through me. I glance shyly at Kartik. He is looking at me through his long lashes, a mischievous grin playing across his lips.

Without warning, I push my lips against his and he responds instantly. For a moment, my heart stops and then I pull away, gasping as fresh air fills my lungs. Overwhelming guilt swims through me and as he leans in again, I push against him slightly, shaking my head.

'Kartik, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have…' I trail off. I desperately don't want to have to explain this to him.

'Gemma…?' His voice is husky. Confusion and hurt, along with something else, something I haven't seen there before, something I do not recognise, flickers across his eyes.

'Kartik, I'm to be married,' I whisper softly. 'I'm betrothed to Simon Middleton.'

Kartik looks shocked for a moment, and that is how long it takes for me to identify the strange new emotion in his eyes.

Desire.

**Please review. I didn't make it any longer because I want to see what people thought before I went on to write a long story.**

**I am willing to write another chapter if I get enough positive responses and reviews.**

**Please review, all criticism welcome.**


	2. Reaction

**The next installment of my story. Thank you to everyone who reviewed. **

**I think this is sort of a slow chapter, because I don't want to rush things, so please review and tell me what you think, and if you think it's **_**too **_**slow, and tell me if I should write another chapter because I have a plan that involves Gemma, Simon and a jealous Kartik!**

**Please review!!**

_We are in the woods. He is chasing me as I dip in and out between the trees. He laughs playfully as he catches up with me and grabs my waist, ensnaring me in a make-shift cage. I turn to face him, our bodies close. He leans in towards me and our lips meet, tentative at first, then with increasing pressure as we both respond eagerly. He steps towards me, causing me to move back until I am against the rough bark of the tree. His lips move with mine, his hands—_

'Gemma! Gemma!' I jolt awake to find Ann leaning over me, already full dressed. She looks at me curiously.

'Are you okay?'

'I'm fine,' I say, rubbing my eyes and struggling to sitting up. 'Why?'

'You were laughing. And mumbling...'

My dream. Oh God. 'What did I say?'

Ann shakes her head. 'Just mumbles.' She moves away, and I am reassured that no names were mentioned that would betray my fantasy. Ann moves towards the door and turns to me before she leaves. 'You'd better hurry before the porridge gets cold.' She casts me another strange look before swinging the door shut.

I fall back on the pillows, allowing a sigh to overcome me. I had been enjoying the dream, even though I know I shouldn't have. If I were to have dreams like that, they should most definitely be about Simon, I scold myself.

I recall the events of the previous evening with Kartik. His reaction had surprised me somewhat. I wasn't sure what to expect. Would he care enough to be angry? Would he care at all? After all, when had he ever expressed any _real_ interest in me?

_He kissed you back_

He did. The memory of his warm lips pressed on mine, his mouth working with mine, his eager response, floated into my mind. It seemed he had shown interest last night. The memory of his eyes, his desire, comes back to me and a warmth floods through my body.

But his reaction to the news had not been one of anger.

_Kartik, I am to be married…I'm betrothed to Simon Middleton…_

He had looked shocked at first, his lips still slightly swollen from our kiss. But it didn't take him long to process the news. His response was quite simple. 'Oh.'

He rose gracefully from his spot beside me, indifference on his face. When he spoke, his voice was reserved and detached. 'Congratulations, Miss Doyle.' The only chink in his armor that made me feel that he cared even a little bit was that his voice trembled slightly. Or perhaps that was just wishful thinking.

I watched him as he walked away, until he was enveloped by the darkness of the forest. I sat there for some time afterwards, confused. I was disappointed by his reaction; I wanted him to care enough to get angry. And I hated myself for wanting that.

--

I spend our free hour outside, even though it is windy and overcast and I am invited by Felicity into her tent. I decline and instead, take my book and writing paper outside. I find refuge in a deserted section of the woods near the lake, where no one is likely to disrupt me.

I settle down onto the ground and pick up my pen and paper. I have made a resolution to act like the dutiful betrothed, in preparation for my wedding, after which I will act like a dutiful wife: one who does not kiss Indian men only one day after leaving her intended at the train station.

I begin my letter with the obvious _Dear Simon,_ but I am soon at a loss of what to say.

_Dear Simon,  
__I know I only said goodbye to you yesterday, but since then, I have kissed and dreamt of another man. You see, I'm not too sure that I want to marry you. I don't believe that being an obedient, obliging wife is my calling.  
__Weather is terrible,  
__Much love, Gemma. _

Well, that won't do. Exhaling loudly, I crumple the page and throw it into the lake, watching it bob on the water. It dances on the surface as the wind drags it across, skimming the top of the water.

I turn back to my blank writing paper, twirling my pen over the page creating a random design as I wrack my brains for something to write.

_Dear Simon,  
__Arrived safely. School is as delightful as ever—cold porridge and bad weather.  
__I will write again soon,  
__Sincerely, Gemma._

I can see already we shall have meaningful conversations when we are married. Longing for some real company, I abandon my place near the lake and my pathetic attempt at a letter, I rise and walk slowly towards the woods. The trees tower over me and shelter me from the soft drizzle that has started. I hurry off towards the gypsy camp and he is there, as I hoped he would be. He is alone in a little clearing, with only the horses for company. He strokes their sides gently, murmuring to them softly.

'Kartik?'

He jumps slightly at the sound of my voice. He did not hear my approach. He twists his neck over his shoulder and turns back immediately.

'Can we talk?'

'About what, Miss Doyle?'

I step closer to him. 'Are you angry?'

'What right have I got to be angry?' He still doesn't turn to face me. Small beads of rain fall on his hair and skin, but he does not seem to notice them.

'I just—,' what do I say? I shouldn't have come. '—never mind, I'll just…I-I'll go.'

Smooth talking there, Gemma.

I turn to leave, utterly embarrassed, when he speaks. 'You certainly know how to give someone the wrong idea, Miss Doyle.'

What does _that_ mean? I turn back to him, annoyance rising. 'It's not like you care very much, Kartik. What does it matter to you who I marry? As long as I reveal nothing about the realms. As long as I don't endanger your _brotherhood_.' I spit the last word.

I turn to leave but his hand snaps out to grab my arm, hindering me from taking any more steps. He swings me around to face him. His face is near mine and I can see droplets of rain on his lashes as he glowers at me.

'I don't _care?_ Do I _act_ like someone who doesn't care?' His eyes are blazing and his voice is filled with fiery anger, but there is a trace of hurt there, almost fully concealed by his severe tone.

Just as it did yesterday, a mad feeling courses through me. An overwhelming yearning floods into me and just as it did yesterday, I press myself against him and kiss him. I am getting much too bold. The kiss startles him and he stumbles backwards from the pressure of my lips. He was not expecting it. I can feel his hot breath in mine; feel the soft skin of his lips on mine. His hands clutch at my waist and he begins to respond. I press myself to him and slip my tongue past his lips. This startles him and he pulls away.

'No, no,' he gasps for air, looking staggered as he pushes me away. I glimpse his eyes: they are very dark and smouldering, just as they were yesterday by the lake. I feel giddy. He _desires_ me.

'Why not?' I say, stepping closer and he looks at me wide-eyed, breathing hard.

'Damn it, Gemma, you are to be married.' He voice is hoarse, but less harsh then before. He runs a hand through his damp curls.

'I don't think I want to be,' I say, acknowledging it aloud for the first time.

'Then why did you accept?' He looks perplexed.

I shrug. I can feel tears threatening to overcome me and I desperately try to suppress them. 'Why not? He is a good match and it makes my family happy.'

'You're marrying him to please your family?'

I shrug again, not really sure why I am marrying him.

'So…you don't love him?'

The pitter of the drizzle grows stronger as I shake my head slightly. 'I-I—,' my voice breaks slightly and the tears threaten to overwhelm me. 'No.'

Kartik breathes deeply but doesn't say anything. He stands opposite me as the drizzle breaks into heavy rain, drenching us both. Still, neither of us moves. There is a sliver of space between his chest and mine. The air around us is tense and electric. He moistens his lips and opens his mouth to say something.

'Gemma—,' he stops. A call cuts him off. Someone from the school is calling my name.

'Yes?' My chest rises in anticipation. I ignore my summons and step closer to him, closing the space between us until our chests are almost touching. He looks down at me, he lips open slightly in a half formed word. His eyes are bright and the rain has dampened his curls so that they hang around his face.

My name is called again.

He swallows and begins again. 'Gemma…,' his chest heaves as he takes in a deep breath. His eyes lock on mine and it seems like the air around us is crackling. The silence is broken by my name being called again, and he releases his breath, looking slightly frustrated. 'You should go.'

'Kartik—'

'You should go, Gemma.'

I nod, and disappointment seeps through me. I turn away, silently cursing whoever is searching for me. The rain has saturated all my layers of clothing so that moving is a difficult task. I walk slowly through the forest and before I reach the school, I look back. He is still standing in the clearing, surrounded with falling rain. He looks a vision, standing with his feet set slightly apart, his hands behind his back, his eyes staring up at mine.

**And the plot thickens.**

**Like I said, a slow chapter. I don't want to rush the story. I may have to change the rating for later chapters, though. Please review.**

**I do plan to write Simon into the story, probably the chapter after next, if you all want more chapters!**


	3. Felicity, Ann and an Announcement

**Third chapter. I really like this one. Sorry about the delay, it's a little late because school has started again, but it is quite long!  
****Excuse my terrible French, it is **_**really**_** bad. It probably doesn't make sense.**

**Simon will be in the next chapter!**

My porridge is cold and congealed. I attempt to bite through it and swallow it but it proves an impossible task. My stomach lurches and I push the bowl away, pulling a new, clean plate towards me. In an unusual twist of luck, there is some bacon left on the plate in the centre of the table. Perhaps I shall not go hungry after all! Just as I reach out, another hand flies out and snatches the bacon from the plate, leaving it bare. Incredulous, I look around for the offender and smiling patronisingly down at me is, off course, Cecily Temple.

She quirks her eyebrow at me and pops the bacon into her mouth, sighing softly. 'Delectable,' she tells me, crunching the bacon.

A low growl rises from my throat but before I can react, Mrs. Nightwing stands up from her seat at the front of the room and taps sharply on her glass with her spoon.

'Girls! May I have your attention for one moment, please?' She clears her throat loudly and waits until silence descends on the hall and all eyes are on her. 'Thank you. After some discussion, some teachers and I have decided we would like to hold another Assembly Day this year.' She raises her hands to quieten the chatter that rises from my schoolmates. 'Many of you would like to see your family again before Easter, so we shall hold this Assembly Day next week. I trust you will all write to your families to inform them of this.'

She smiles down at us as an internal groan runs through me. The last thing I want is a visit from Tom and my grandmother. It seems I am not alone in these thoughts. Felicity sits next to me, biting her nails absentmindedly, her forehead creased in a worried frown. Ann sits opposite me looking more miserable than usual. It will be a lonely day for her. She will sit in our bedroom while Felicity and I silently endure the torturous visits.

None of us speak as we file out of the hall to our classes. I am trying to think of a way I can get out of telling my family about this latest event when Mrs. Nightwing stops me by the door. She peers down at me over her glasses. 'I trust you will invite Mr. Middleton to the Assembly Day, Miss Doyle?'

I am surprised. Truthfully, I never thought of this. I smile falsely at Mrs. Nightwing. 'Of course.'

She nods in approval and sweeps me from the room in front of her. Felicity and Ann are waiting for me by the stairs and we walk together towards Mademoiselle LeFarge's classroom.

'What did she want?' Felicity asks as we climb the staircase.

'She wanted to know if I intend on inviting Simon to Assembly Day.'

'Ah….do you?'

I give a low chuckle. 'I haven't though about it. I'm actually trying to find a way out of inviting my family.'

Felicity nods. 'I doubt _my_ family will even want to come.'

Ann speaks quietly. 'At least neither of you will have to keep from everyone's view that day because most of London thinks you a liar.'

'Ann, nobody thinks you a liar,' I say to comfort her, even though what she said is perfectly true. She knows this and casts me a withering look.

This annoys me. She thinks she has the worst bargain because she'll be _alone_? To be alone is all I want.

'Well, at least you don't have to make awkward small talk with your pompous, big-headed brother or the fiancé you got stuck with, who you don't _really_ want to marry!' I snap, stomping on the stairs. In my irrational fit it takes me a few moments to notice that Ann and Felicity are not following me. I turn to them and am faced with two shocked looking faces. I watch as a small triumphant grin finds its place of Felicity's lips.

'What?' I ask.

'I was right!' Felicity says proudly.

'About what?' I ask, confused.

'You don't want to marry Simon!'

'What?' I force a small giggle, frantic thoughts running through my head. 'Wherever did you get that idea?'

'You just said it!' Felicity says, exasperated.

'No, I didn't,' I say, slightly unsure. Did I?

'You did say it, Gemma,' Ann says matter-of-factly.

I frown. 'Slip of the tongue. I didn't mean it.'

'Yes, you did,' Felicity contradicts.

'I was being _dramatic_, Felicity. I didn't mean anything I said.'

'I think you did, Gemma,' Ann interrupts, in the same tone as before.

'And why do you think that?' I say, infuriated.

'Because of your dream last week.' Ann smirks slightly.

'My dream? What—' I trail off. I know what dream. I turn to Ann. 'What about it?' I ask casually, my heart thumping.

'Ooh yes, what about it?' Felicity asks eagerly.

'Well…,' Ann climbs further up the stairs, enjoying her position as centre of attention. 'I lied.'

'Lied _how?_' Felicity is practically salivating.

'I said you mentioned no names, Gemma…,' she pauses for the thrill. I close my eyes briefly. Ann leans closer to Felicity and me. 'But I lied.' She grins slowly. 'Does "Kartik" ring a bell?' She flushes slightly.

Felicity squeals and I groan simultaneously.

'It wasn't about anything,' I say quickly, my cheeks heating.

'Neither of us said it was, Gemma,' Felicity said playfully, enjoying my torture. 'We don't think such things.'

Neither of them are reacting as I thought they would. Neither of them are shocked or scandalised by my dreaming of another man, as I was sure they would be. But, I remind myself dryly, this is Felicity, the girl caught behind the boathouse in the arms of a gypsy. Nothing seems to shock her.

'Yes, well…' I march forward and yank open the classroom door. My cheeks feel like they are on fire. Felicity winks at me as she glides in before me and Ann has the good grace to blush.

'_Bonjour, mes __filles__!' _We take our places as Mademoiselle LeFarge waltzes into the room. She turns to us and beams at me radiantly. 'Ah, Gemma, _ça va?_'

I duck my head and hope this is the only question she asks me. '_Ça va.'_

'_Vous sont pour être épousé?'_

'Ah…,' I am lost. The question makes Felicity giggle.

Mademoiselle LeFarge repeats the question. I have no idea what it means, so I decide to guess the answer. '_Le temps est très bon._' I smile up at her. _The weather is very nice._ At least that's what I hope I said.

Mademoiselle frowns at me and for a moment I think I may have insulted her. 'Miss Bradshaw, please translate the question for Miss Doyle.'

Ann smiles dutifully and spouts off the correct translation. 'You are to be married?'

'Oh.' I am embarrassed. I nod. '_Oui.'_

'_Vous sont excité?_'

Cecily emits an exaggerated, bored sigh and I look at Ann again, quite mortified.

'Are you excited?' she whispers.

I sigh quietly. Why will no one let the subject drop? '_Oui,'_ I repeat, hoping to draw the conversation to a close.

The teacher seems to grow tired of my pathetic effort and with a final dark glance, Mademoiselle LeFarge turns to Felicity and starts up a conversation in rapid French. I sigh and lean back on my seat, enjoying my hour of solitude until the class finishes.

Neither Felicity nor Ann mentions the subject of my marriage or Kartik again, but Felicity wears a wry, victorious smile. Why she is happy that I do not want to marry my fiancé is beyond me, but I do not ask or fear of bringing on a repeat of the embarrassing conversation. Instead, I skip dinner and escape out into the garden. I sit by the stone bench outside the chapel, tracing patterns into the hard stone with my finger. I sit alone for several minutes, with only my thoughts for company, and I don't look up until someone sits in the seat next to me. Raising my head, I see it is Kartik.

I quickly look over at the school, but we are hidden from view. I turn away but still do not look at him. I am embarrassed by my behaviour last week in the woods.

'Hello,' he says quietly.

I nod in response but don't say anything.

We sit for several more minutes, allowing silence to descend.

'Kartik—'

'Gemma—'

I bite my lip. 'Go on.' I nod at him to continue.

He bobs his head and looks at me. I can't bring myself to meet his eyes. 'Gemma—do you remember last week in the forest?' He speaks hesitantly.

'Yes.' I cringe at the memory of my boldness.

But that does not seem to be what he is thinking of. 'Do you remember what you said?'

'Er…,' I raise an eyebrow. 'I said a lot. Any part in particular?'

'Do you remember what you said about not wanting to get married?'

'Oh.' I blow air from my lips, exhaling slowly. 'I remember.'

'Did you mean it?'

I finally look at him. He is leaning forward on the bench slightly, His hands out in front of him, his arms resting on his legs. His expression is serious, his eyes squinted slightly to block the sun.

I study him for several seconds before I nod slowly. '…yes.'

He narrows his eyes even more. 'Then why are you?'

'Why am I marrying him?' I laugh. 'Because when he asked, I didn't think, I just accepted. And now it's too late.'

'Why is it too late?' His expression is grave and his brown eyes bore into my green ones while waiting for a response.

I shake my head. 'You don't understand how society works, Kartik,' I say shortly. 'Women are not supposed to stress themselves by thinking too much. I can't break off my engagement to Simon because it would cause a scandal. Everything would be called into question: my position, my independence, my virtue.' I look him in the eye. 'If I break off this engagement, I will be seen as a disagreeable girl who is too "loose". I would lose whatever freedom I have, Grandmamma would lock me in my room until I'm twenty and the chances of me making another match are slim. No one wants a girl who has got a reputation for being fussy or picky, or whose virtue may not be intact.'

He raises an eyebrow. 'And Simon?'

'What of him? Yes, Simon could call it off. But as far as he knows, I am happy. And even if he were to know that I didn't want to marry him, if he called it off my virtue would be in question perhaps even more, and rumours about why he broke it off would be rampant.'

'What do you care about rumours?'

'I care when they threaten my future.'

'You would really marry unwillingly to fit the interests of society?'

I struggle with this question. 'Well, yes, it sounds silly when you simply say it like that, but it's different when you live it. It's a serious matter. Nobody wants a scandal.'

'You would have an unhappy marriage before a scandal?' He observes me solemnly. 'I never took you to be that kind of girl, Gemma: to worry about what others think.'

Why is he being so difficult today? What does it matter _what_ type of girl I am? It bothers me that I am not the girl he wants me to be, and I am annoyed at myself for wanting his approval. 'Nobody wants to be alone forever, Kartik, and most people would choose unhappiness over loneliness. Besides, Simon doesn't make me unhappy…'

'But he doesn't make you happy.' Not a question, a statement.

I am getting frustrated. He is being deliberately stubborn. It is tiring explaining myself. 'He is fine. Not everyone can have a fairytale.'

'Happiness is not a lot to ask for.'

'Perhaps not for some people, but my situation is not like that of most girls. I should be happy someone is willing to marry me, particularly someone like Simon: I shall be very comfortable with him.' My face is red with the effort of not getting angry. This is the first time I have truly thought about the life that lies ahead of me, and I want time to process it before I attempt to explain it to anyone.

Kartik doesn't speak; he just looks at me through his extraordinarily long lashes. 'You could be happy, Gemma,' he says softly. 'You deserve to be.'

I look at him hopelessly. 'How?' I whisper.

He leans over and tucks a strand of loose hair behind my ear, his finger gently grazing underneath my earlobe. My eyes automatically shoot frantically towards the school. No one is watching. Kartik's finger is at my neck now, tracing circles into my skin.

'Stop that,' I say, reluctantly pulling away from his touch and standing up. My skin tingles where his hand touched it. He looks at me, wide-eyed, and raises his hands in a gesture of surrender. His hands are slightly calloused from the rough life he as been living with the gypsies. I want to run to him, to feel his strong arms, to enter his embrace, but instead I adopt a formal tone as I turn to speak to him.

'Kartik, I would like to apologise for my behaviour.' He raises an eyebrow as I continue. 'For what I did in the woods…and by the lake—,' I blush crimson. 'It was out of line.'

The sides of his lips curve upwards. 'That's okay. I don't mind.'

This makes me blush deeper. 'Well…,' I falter. '…I'm glad we straightened that out.'

'Yes.' Kartik smiles slowly, making the red of my cheeks intensify.

'Fine…good…,' I cough. I can think of nothing more to say. I don't want to leave his company, but I am embarrassed and I don't wish for anyone to see us together. 'I better go,' I say. I turn back towards the school and I come to a halt when he calls after me.

'Gemma—your life is what you make it.'

I stand still, my back to him, as I listen to him walk away. The gravel crunches below his feet and I contemplate his words. I sigh and continue towards the school to write my letters to Simon and my family about Assembly Day.

**Terrible French. That's why I dropped it! **

**My historic facts may be a bit off. I don't know if a lady would really be considered 'tainted' if she had a broken engagement. But I put it in for dramatic effect ******

**Anyway, review please! This is my favourite chapter.  
****It might be a while before the next chapter, because I'm back at school now, but I'll try my best**


	4. Assembly Day Happenings

**It's certainly been a while since I last updated (well over a year ago), I've graduated school and sat my exams, so I've been a bit busy. I didn't forget about the story though, and it was raining this afternoon, so I thought I'd give it another go. ******

**It's been a while since I've written anything outside English class, so I may be a bit out of the loop. If this chapter does seem a little different, be patient, hopefully I'll get back into the swing of things soon enough. **

My foot taps rapidly against the side of the table, my eyes flickering between the doorway and the rest of the room. They are twenty minutes late. Families surround me. Some are sitting at tables, talking and laughing, others are swanning around the hall, greeting others with loud exclaims and kisses. The door to the garden is thrown open, and I see families standing around outside, mothers chattering to each other, fathers exchanging polite conversation, girls, followed subtly by discreet chaperones, parading their betrothed past their peers like prizes.

Felicity is at a table near me, both her parents seated on opposite ends of the bench, her between them. She is sitting quietly, a strained smile on her face as conversation passes between them, over her head, speaking only when a question is directed at her. She catches my eye and gives a small smile, rolling her eyes slightly. I respond mockingly and rise from my chair, unwilling to remain seated and waiting any longer. No one glances my way as I start towards the door, but I see Felicity excuse herself and I slow slightly to allow her to catch up with me.

'Still haven't arrived, then?' She halts by my side, and I don't answer her question. 'Lucky you. I wish mine hadn't bothered.' She glances back over at the table, where her parents are now facing away from each other, her mother in conversation with a lady I recognise only from my grandmother's social circles in London. 'Although it is the first time my father _has_ actually ever come to one of these.' She gives a small, sharp laugh and turns to face me. 'Did you invite Simon?' She quirks her eyebrows, a small smile playing on her lips. I sigh and look towards the door again.

'Yes. He wrote back and said he would arrive with my family. Clearly not.'

'Well, I'm sure this is reason enough to call off the engagement. It's simply frightful that one can't be bothered to show up for his most beloved's Assembly Day at school. If he cannot be depended on for that, he is simply not marriage material.' She chuckles, delighted at her wit. I roll my eyes and glance away as her mother approaches.

'Felicity, dear, have you met Mrs. Gregory?' She glances back at the woman she was talking to, now chatting excitedly with the admiral. 'She has a son in the navy. He was commanded by your own father.' She inclines her head towards me. 'Ms. Doyle.'

'Good day, Mrs. Worthington.'

She touches Felicity's arm. 'Do come and say hello, darling.' She guides Felicity away from me with another cheerful smile in my direction. I watch them arrive back at their table, Mrs. Worthington introducing the two, Felicity standing beside her, a pout on her pretty lips.

I am crossing the hall towards the staircase when they arrive, in a flurry. My grandmother at the front, as always, and as she calls across the hall to me, I pause at the foot of the stairs.

'Gemma. Darling!' I turn around, false cheer ready my face. I was just getting my hopes up that they might never arrive. 'Sorry we're a little late, dear, there were a few things to attend to.' Tom is behind her, casting his haughty gaze around the room. Simon is there too, as promised, standing just a little behind him, a confident grin on his lips. My heart jumps slightly at the sight of him, my stomach twisting, not out of delight, but rather anxiety and something else that I can't quite put my finger on. There are none of the butterflies that I've heard of, no rush to the head, or giddy joy.

'Gemma.' He crosses the room swiftly, grabbing my hand from my side and kissing it fluidly. My grandmother beams at him. I smile shyly, pushing away my unenthusiastic thoughts. As we re-enter the hall and make our way towards a table, I do not enjoy the same low-key journey I did before. Simon attracts many glances, mothers watching him approvingly as he strolls past, stopping him occasionally to ask about his family, which he responds to politely. Some of the younger girls stare at him with outright admiration, turning to me with raised eyebrows and looks of slight resentment. Only Felicity looks as me shrewdly, daring me slightly with her eyes. I shake my head at her slightly and she gives me a wide smile.

Grandmama sits at the table with a sigh, settling her skirts. Simon takes the chair opposite her, beside me, and Tom sits down, preening slightly at the glances cast towards us, his eyes still examining the hall.

'Where's Father?' I ask, causing Tom's head to jerk up. Grandmama casts a look around the room and affects a high laugh. Simon looks away courteously, examining some paintings hanging on the wall.

'Your father took ill this morning, Gemma. He's being seen to by his nurses. He sends his well-wishes, and his apologies, of course.' Grandmama laughs once more, glancing nervously towards Simon.

This annoys me. She's very keen on me marrying Simon. If she wants him to become a member of the family, does she expect this to remain a secret? 'Ill in what way?'

'A touch of the flu, I expect.' Her voice adopts an irritated edge, masked with another titter. 'Nothing serious.'

'Yes.' I look away, frustrated. Clearly, she does expect it to remain a secret. Not that people do not already know, and although I suspect my grandmother is aware of this, she seems to assume that if she believes it is not true, it won't be. No one speaks for several moments, and Tom excuses himself, rising from his position.

'Shall we take a walk, Gemma?' I jerk at the sound of Simon's voice. My grandmamma has gathered herself, no longer flustered, and she smiles widely at him. 'What a simply splendid idea, Simon. It is such a beautiful day, and you can show him the gardens, Gemma. Tom can accompany you.' She looks around for him, but before she can call out, Simon has risen, placing his arm in mine.

'No need for that, Mrs. Doyle,' he says smoothly, flashing a charming smile towards my grandmother. 'Tom seems otherwise engaged, we shan't disturb him.' This, at least, is true. Tom is deep in conversation with a girl I recognise only vaguely. She is giggling prettily at his words, utterly charmed, while her chaperone stands beside her, a dour expression on her face.

'Yes.' My grandmother's face creases slightly. She is unwilling to disturb Tom, hoping, no doubt, that conversation at an Assembly Day over tea and biscuits will lead to something more.

'We shall have a teacher escort us through the gardens,' Simon says lightly, inclining his head towards the table of teachers without family visiting at the end of the hall. Some are laughing amongst each other, trading jokes and tea, others are observing the students beadily, or making conversation with parents or other chaperones. Grandmama sits back down, visibly relaxing.

'Yes, of course.' She smiles at him indulgently and I turn away. Simon leads me by the arm over the hall, smiling politely as we slip by tables and families, nodding his head briefly at the Worthingtons as we pass. Mrs. Worthington smiles brightly and Felicity shoots him a wide smirk, glancing at me with what she no doubt considers a wise, pensive expression. She takes great joy out of my discomfort.

We slip past the teachers table unnoticed and pass through the open doors of the garden. Simon slips my arm out of his and takes my hand instead, pulling me away from the school. 'Simon, we have no chaperone. We really shouldn't – '

He turns to me with a smile and I cut off, glancing over my shoulder. Other couples mill past, arm in arm, laughing gleefully, a stern looking companion following several steps behind.

'Gemma, Gemma,' he pulls my hand again, causing my body to move closer to his, a smile playing lightly on his lips. I blush, turning my face away from his. 'I promise not to let anything get you.' His fingers touch my face fleetingly, dropping back down, and he puts some distance between us as another couple pass by, chatting merrily. 'Do you trust me?'

I hesitate. Simon is well respected and charismatic. It is not a great threat to walk alone with him. Yet, still, to not be accompanied can lead to disreputable situations. However, we are into our third month of engagement, to walk alone would not be too discreditable...he is looking at me playfully, tugging my hand slightly. His smile is contagious and I consent, allowing him to slip my arm through his. We walk along at leisure, further down the path than other couples are venturing. As we go, Simon makes pleasant conversation, about the weather, the flowers. I'm not listening. We are walking towards the lake, leaving the school and people behind and I can see the woods rising up in front of us, dark and mysterious. Somewhere beyond the trees is the gypsy camp, the clearing with Kartik's horses, perhaps even Kartik himself is in the woods, masked by the trees...

We stop suddenly and I blush, ashamed to be walking with Simon yet thinking of Kartik. We are at the edge of the lake, where it meets the wood, water lapping towards us in gentle waves. The trees and shadows hide us from view of the school and the families wandering around the boathouse. Simon extracts his arm from mine and looks at me. He raises his hand to my face, gently tracing his finger along my jaw.

'You're blushing, Gemma.' I am, though not for the reasons he thinks. I push Kartik out of my mind, determined too instead enjoy my time with the man I am to marry, even if I have to force myself. I look up at him. His eyes are dark, his pupils dilated. I can see his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat, a muscle twitching steadily in his jaw. He reaches out a hand and intertwines it with mine, pulling me towards him. We are much to close now, and I can feel his breath on my face, sweet and suffocating. He lowers his face gently towards mine, following the trail of his finger with his lips. He brushes them over my cheek, tracing down towards my lips and pauses at the corner of my mouth. I falter, uncomfortable. His breath mingles with mine, his fingers tapping out a rhythm as they move from my hand up my arm, and back down again. Then, his mouth is on my lips, pushing against them softly. I stand still, ignoring the overwhelming scorching in my throat, the feeling that this is all wrong—wrong time, wrong place..._wrong boy_...Simon leans in towards me, the pressure heightening, becoming more forceful, and I lean away, unwilling to return the kiss. His hands move up my arms, tracing my neck, his fingers locking behind it, pulling me closer, mistaking my reluctance for shyness. He sighs slightly against my lips, saying my name, but I want him to stop. I don't want this. Not with him. His lips on mine feels wrong, my name on his lips is wrong, his hands in my hands, my face, my neck is all wrong. He's gentle—as gentle as Kartik, and for a fleeting moment, I respond, remembering how his lips felt under mine, remembering my dream of us in the woods, the way his eyes locked on mine—the dark, wanting look in them, but as Simon reacts to me, it does not grow into the same passion and excitement as Kartik's, but rather he clutches at me with greedy eagerness. He tilts towards me further, but unwilling, I stumble backwards, gasping as Simon breaks away, a slight expression of concern on his face as I overturn and tumble onto the soft floor of the woods.

'Gemma.' He is breathing heavily, holding his hand out. He smile is wide, affectionate and I groan slightly. No doubt he thinks my falling is to do with being driven dizzy by enthuasiasm or yearning, rather than reluctance and unwillingness. I accept his hand and he pulls me up, still laughing. 'You have moss in your hair, Gemma.' His hands go to my hair but I don't pull away, tired and disheartened. What am I going to do? Grandmama will not take kindly to a broken engagement, nor will the rest of London. Especially if the broken engagement is with Simon Middleton. You don't break betrothals to perfect men. My head jerks up at a sound in the wood, the sound of a twig snapping as someone moves in the shadows, and before either of us has a chance to react, Kartik steps out from behind a tree. His eyes widen when he sees me, and his eyes flicker to Simon's hand in my hair. He cheeks darken and he looks away, tipping his head in my direction. 'Miss.'

'Hello.' I look away, certain that the deep blush in my cheeks will give me away. Simon flattens my hair and discards a leaf on the ground, slipping his hand around my waist, pulling me away from the woods. His protective stance is not unnoticed and Kartik's eyes harden slightly as he bows towards Simon. Simon regards him coolly, raising an eyebrow at the horses behind him, something I hadn't noticed, and I can feel the awkwardness in the air, fluttering between Kartik and I silently. 'Can we help you?' Simon speaks briskly, speaking as though he would a servant.

Kartik's eyes flicker upwards towards him, a slight contempt in his face. Although I'm sure this has more to do with Simon's tone than it does his hand on my waist. I shrug him off, instead putting my arm through his. 'I bring the horses to the lake to allow them to drink.' He glances towards the school, barely visible through the thickness of the trees. 'I forgot about this—' he waves his arms '—family day. My apologies.'

'Indeed.' Simon is still observing him with a disdainful expression, his nose crinkled slightly at the slight odour of the horses, his eyes travelling towards the mud patches on Kartik's breeches. He puts as much superiority into that one word as he can. I keep my eyes trained on the ground, unwilling to meet Kartik's accusing gaze, slightly ashamed at Simon's condescending tone. I hear Kartik move slightly and I look up. He is driving the horses backwards with quiet commands and whispers, moving further into the dark of the forest. I clear my throat.

'No, please, use the lake. The horses are thirsty, no doubt. We were on our way back as it was.' Kartik looks towards me and I offer a small smile, hoping he will accept my menial apology, though why I feel the need to apologise, or what I am apologising for, I am not sure. 'We came to...admire the scenery.' Simon glances at me, then back to Kartik.

'As the lady wishes. Come along then, Gemma.' He crinkles his nose once more at the horses and their groomer, before leading me away from the trees. I glance back at Kartik quickly, my smile still in place, but his face is thunderous. He casts me a quick look, darkening his expression further, and I turn around quickly, a feeling of distress and hurt deep in my stomach. I suddenly want to cry, to throw Simon's arm off me and scream, but I don't. I can't. I'm a lady.

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